


Tug

by naegiriko



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Communication, Exploration, F/M, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Medical Jargon, Sexual Inexperience, i had to look up penis anatomy on wikipedia for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naegiriko/pseuds/naegiriko
Summary: It's better for both of them when Shaun tells her exactly what he wants.





	Tug

**Author's Note:**

> hi! first time writing for this fandom, but i'm in love with this show since i binge watched it during my flu.
> 
> i'm not autistic, so i don't know how well i captured shaun here, but make sure to let me know of any mistakes/offenses/inaccuracies.
> 
> enjoy! i love these two to death.

It’s Thursday night, 9:07.

The light outside is gone, dusk beats it out to black, but for all intents and purposes, it’s dusk because it makes a date night in seem sensual and romantic.

At least, that’s how Lea sees it.

Shaun doesn’t care about the ambience or the social requirements of what a “date” entails.

He just breathes in the scent of Lea as they kiss, oil and ink and something fruity and bubbling. Push-pop summer school, he names the scent.

Lea breaks the kiss and clears her throat.

“Shaun, I need to know how physical we’re going to get tonight, because I don’t want to misstep here.”

He stops and looks at the ceiling for about twenty seconds, which feels like forty to Lea.

“I do want more,” he decides.

“What does ‘more’ mean?”

“You could bring me to orgasm with manual stimulation,” he declares. “A handjob.”

Then Shaun adds: “If you would like it. It will only be enjoyable with both parties reciprocate.”

“Well, consider this party reciprocated!” Lea exclaims.

Shaun surges forward and kiss her like he always does: gently, with his fingertips right on her cheek, holding her there for him just right.

“Tug on my hair, Lea,” Shaun asks. “Just barely. Don’t grab or squeeze.”

“Tug?”

“Tug.” Shaun confirms. “Yes. Tug. Tug. Tug.”

He repeats the word, rolls around in the simplicity of it, wallows in the short U and tough little G hanging onto the end.

“Tug,” Lea mimics. She joins him in the mantra. The word is grounding. To say it over and over, to hear _tug_ become more breathy with each syllable in Shaun’s throat is a blessing, a miracle, and she feels the religion in the word as it hums through his Adam’s apple.

_Tug._

Each tug of his hair pulls Shaun closer to her, to the sense of her. He whines and the fingers of his right hand trace the fabric of her sweater with fervor, the left flutters in the empty air next to her. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration or an attempt at composure, likely the former.

Lea wants him to let go, _don’t think_ , but it’s easier said than done and she is walking on eggshells or glass or whatever things are fragile and painful.

But Shaun is neither, so she decides to ask.

“Shaun, tell me what makes you feel good.”

“Touch me underneath my shirt,” he directs. “On my sides.”

Lea slips her hands along the incredible softness of his torso, working circles along the junction of his hip and feeling the slight divots of his ribs. She can hear him whispering the places she touches like an echo.

Then Shaun freezes.

“Too much. It’s too much if you kiss me at the same you touch me like that. It’s really very loud.”

“I’m sorry,” Lea manages. She wasn’t aware she had leaned in to kiss him--it seemed so natural. But it wasn’t impossible to separate the two actions. She just had to be conscious of what she was doing.

“I’m going to take off my top now, and I want you to touch me.” The motion of Lea’s shirt is fluid and her nipples harden at the cold air and the way the wool slides against them.

When Shaun’s hands cup her breasts the relief is instantaneous, the experimentality refreshing. She feels paid attention to, studied, and treasured if she pushes it.

And Jesus, she thinks, if the foreplay is this good and thorough then their sex will be the best she’s ever had.

Lea bites her lip and shuts her eyes, and nestles her nose into the crook of Shaun’s neck. He smells like the vanilla cupcake candle he made sure to blow out before they started kissing. Lea makes a mental file folder-- _second base with Shaun: vanilla cupcake._

“Please don’t stop doing that, it feels really good Shaun, please.” Lea feels almost ridiculous with how much she’s enjoying this, but ever swipe of Shaun’s thumb across her nipple is a shot of pure of dopamine.

“I like that you like it,” Shaun smiles, and Lea pushes his hands away so she can kiss him, really kiss him, and his eyes finally close and _holy fucking shit_ she loves this man.

Next thing she knows Shaun is unbuttoning his pants with deft hands and Lea teeters at the precipice of complete arousal and complete panic.

“I’m ready for you to touch my penis,” he says, and if it was some one night stand she’d laugh but it’s Shaun and she really fucking wants to.

It’s more or less what she expected, and it’s hard to even conceive of a penis being beautiful, but that was her first thought.

It wasn’t big, it wasn’t thick, just a normal penis, almost textbook. The beautiful thing was that it was Shaun’s, and it also looked painfully hard, thoroughly red and twitching in his hand.

“You like it.” He looked down at her through spread legs. He was stating fact, but something about it aroused her beyond belief. The confidence was handsome on Shaun.

“I do like it. Fuck, Shaun, I love it,” and Lea placed her hands around his cock like it was the first time she’d ever touched one.

“Tell me, Shaun,” Lea whispered. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me what to do.” She was beginning to feel dizzy and light anticipation.

“Hold it at the base of the shaft with your thumb and forefinger, then start moving your wrist. All the way to the glans, and rub your thumb over the frenulum.”

“Um, Shaun, I don’t think I know where that is.”

“Right here.” He guides her hand to the tip of his cock and she runs her thumb along the edge of it. Shaun’s head falls back and he says, _Lea, Lea, Lea_ , like it’s a song or a spell and every time it’s louder and breathier and she understands now that he’s let his body take control.

And she pays attention.

He’s pushed into the couch, rigid with a coming orgasm, thick eyebrows dark and fixed, eyes clamped shut, and his hands are tousling Lea’s hair.

She continues to jack him off, wanting to see him let go but also never wanting it to end.

Then all at once he slumps and stops shouting out her name, and shoots the biggest load she’s ever seen, all over her hand and couch and his chest, and she works him through it, _God, Shaun, you look so amazing, so beautiful Shaun, come for me Shaun_.

“I made a mess,” is the first thing Shaun says post-orgasm. “I apologize.”

“No need, it’s the best mess that’s ever been made in this shitty little apartment.”

Shaun stares at her expectantly.

“Oh yeah, I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

When she returns from the bathroom he still hasn’t moved, the come is beginning to dry on his chest. As she scrubs it off, all he does is beam at her in a pleasant way, totally spent.

“Thank you, Lea. I’d love to kiss you again right now.”

“I always want to kiss you. You’re the best kisser I’ve ever met.”

And so they do.

It swallows Lea up, the way Shaun kisses. The way his fingertips lay tentatively on her jawline as he does it, the noises that escape his throat, the neediness.

Lea wants to say I love you, but instead she weaves her hand through coarse brown hair and _tugs_.


End file.
